


Misdiagnosis

by etoiledunord



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, F/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-11
Updated: 2006-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoiledunord/pseuds/etoiledunord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead. Is that a body at Cameron's door? Or maybe House has it all wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This piece started out as a oneshot. I was talked into writing a second chapter, but I wasn't happy with it, so I wrote an alternate second chapter that was very different. I've since had to stop myself from writing yet another. The summary is from Aaron's confession speech in Titus Andronicus--there are no actual dead bodies in this fic.

It was a Tuesday evening and Cameron was feeling melancholy. She stared at the screen of her laptop listlessly and waited for something to happen. She wanted to go home, knew it was time for her to go home, but couldn't bring herself to get up without some kind of push from an outside source.

Of course, the next thing that happened was House walking into the room. Cameron shut her laptop and began busying herself with leaving, hoping to avoid being given some task to perform or some snide remark to tolerate.

"Ooh, now you might just give someone the impression you don't want to see them, rushing to leave like that," House said, limping towards her.

Cameron avoided making eye contact. "I have a busy night planned," she lied.

"Now I know that's not true," House said.

Cameron looked up and glared at him, but he cut her off by reaching into his jacket and pulling out an open envelope.

"What's that?" Cameron asked suspiciously.

"Something that came in the mail last week," House replied.

"Since when do you check your mail?" Cameron asked.

"Oh, I'm full of surprises," House said, removing and unfolding the letter that was inside. "'Dr. Allison Cameron,'" he read. "'In preparation for the full release of your deceased husband's estate-'"

"What!"

"'-a meeting must be held prior to the tenth anniversary of his death, March 14, 2007. Please contact my office,' yada yada yada," House finished as he threw the letter onto the table in front of Cameron. "You didn't tell me today was the anniversary of your husband's death."

Cameron was incensed. "It was none of your business!" she yelled. "And what are you doing, reading my mail?"

House remained non-chalant. "It was from a law firm. I needed to know if one of my employees was in legal trouble."

"You were prying!" Cameron accused.

"Well, that too," House snarked. "But that's beside the point."

"Like hell it is!" Cameron shouted.

But House changed gears suddenly, dropping his sarcastic expression and straightening his back. "I need to know if you need time off," he said seriously.

"What?" Cameron asked, indignant. "No, I don't need time off. I am perfectly capable of handling this without it interfering with my work."

House paused, looking her in the eyes. "You're sure?" he asked.

"Yes," Cameron said. "Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"No, I won't excuse you," House said, stopping her with his cane. "Sit down. I'm not finished yet, and you're too upset to be driving right now. You might kill somebody else's husband."

Cameron glared at him again. "Go to hell," she said and walked out.

Some three hours later, Cameron was sitting on her couch watching television. She'd calmed down since getting home, but she wasn't really feeling any better. Nine years. It had been a different time in her life, but it still hurt like a bitch to think about. She'd been so young. And his parents had been so skeptical. Hence the meeting with the lawyer. They'd set up a trust fund for their son for when he turned 25, but when Cameron had entered the picture, they'd changed the terms, worried that she was after his money. She'd have to wait until ten years after he died before being allowed access to the trust instead of waiting only two years until what would have been her husband's 25th birthday. Oh, well. She'd been lucky and managed to pay for most of her education without student loans, so not getting the money then hadn't been an issue, and what she had wound up needing to borrow was now paid off. Maybe she'd save the trust money for a rainy day, or donate it. Maybe set up a scholarship fund in his memory.

Of course, her contemplations of what to do with the money were cut off by a knock on her door. Cameron's shoulders immediately tensed. She knew that knock.

"Go away," she called.

"No," House called back.

Pulling herself off the couch, Cameron went to open the door. "What do you want?" she asked House, giving him a stern look.

"I wanted to make sure you made it home all right," House answered.

"If I didn't know that was bullshit, I'd tell you to use the phone next time," Cameron said coldly.

House pursed his lips. "Fine," he said. "I'm here because you walked out on me earlier before I could finish talking."

"I don't want to hear what you-"

"Too bad," House told her. Then, nodding towards the interior of the apartment, said "Let's go inside."

Cameron walked away from the door, leaving it open for House to enter. He did so, closing the door behind him. He took off his coat and threw it aside. Somewhere along the way, he'd removed his blazer and shirt, leaving him in only his Rolling Stones t-shirt and jeans. He then moved to the couch, where Cameron had reinstated herself, back to watching television.

House sat down on the end of the couch opposite Cameron. He placed his cane across his knees and fiddled with it, giving it an exaggerated frown of contemplation. He spoke without looking up.

"Growing up, did you dream of being Dr. Lithgow?"

Cameron was so startled that she gave a little jump as she turned her head to look at House. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide, and as she stared at him, House could tell tears were beginning to form.

Cameron began working her mouth to try to speak. "H-… ho-…ho-… how?" she finally got out.

"The letter," House replied. "It had your husband's name, as well as the names of his parents. I didn't have to look hard for yours."

Cameron shook her head and blinked back her tears. She didn't understand. "…why?" she breathed

"Because I wanted to know," House said. "The letter piqued my curiosity."

"What does it matter to you?" Cameron asked, beginning to get defensive.

"It intrigues me that you chose to have it so that every time somebody says your name, it's a little reminder of your dead husband," House told her. "Why not go back to your maiden name?"

"That's none of your business!"

House gave her a vaguely annoyed look, then looked back down at his cane. He fiddled with it some more before taking a deep breath and beginning to talk.

"You were 21 years old, maybe 22 by then. Within the space of about a year, your life had gone through ups and downs you'd probably never known before. One minute you had a family, the next minute you didn't. Your decision to keep your married name was likely a way to hold on to what you had. But in the earnestness of your youth, you didn't consider all the ramifications. Would there ever be a time you wanted to just forget the whole thing for a while? What other significance would the name acquire in your life? Would you change it if you got married again? What would it feel like to be called that name by someone you had feelings for?" House looked up at her. "What would it feel like to be called that name by me?"

Cameron had her arms wrapped around herself and was watching him with a guarded look. They sat in silence, staring at each other for a long moment.

Cameron broke the silence. "My husband's death made me very sad for a very long time. Before I finished med school, people called me Mrs. Cameron, and, yes, that hurt. But I dreamed of being Dr. Cameron. Going by my husband's name gave me the resolve to help the people who needed it when faced with illness." She paused and swallowed before continuing. "Hearing you call me by that name fits, I suppose. It goes well with your perception of me as a naïve, overly-emotional and overly-optimistic girl. Only I don't see it that way, and I'm not going to apologize for not agreeing with your misdiagnosis."

House didn't move for a while; he seemed to be thinking. Then, suddenly, he stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Dr. Cameron," he said, then he limped over to the door, picked up and put on his coat, and let himself out.


	2. Original Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first version of the second chapter I wrote.

Cameron tried to act as natural as possible when she entered the conference room on Wednesday morning, though she felt anything but. She had considered calling in sick, but she didn't want to give House the satisfaction. She wasn't sure what he had meant by his statement when he left last night, but afterwards, she'd only been able to crawl into bed before crying herself to sleep.

She was glad that she was the first one to get to work, and set herself to making coffee. She felt exhausted and a bit sick to her stomach, but when Foreman and Chase arrived, Cameron was able to greet them more or less casually, even though she couldn't bring herself to go sit down with them. Instead, she watched the coffee brew. The flow of the liquid was almost soothing.

Cameron was disappointed when the coffee was ready and the machine gave a final gurgle. She reached to get a mug, but turned around suddenly when she heard the sound of the door to House's office open.

"Finally, there's coffee!" House said as he limped towards the pot. "I've been here for over an hour and nobody's bothered to make some until now."

Foreman and Chase were looking at House quizzically, so they didn't see the look of confusion and dread that passed across Cameron's face.

"Uh, we just got here," Foreman pointed out. "If you wanted coffee, you should've made it yourself."

House grimaced at him as he poured himself a cup. "And not allow you three one of the experiences that would let you grow to your full potential?" he asked mockingly.

Foreman snickered. "Whatever," he said in a genial sort of way. "What's up? We got something going on? Why were you in so early?"

House stirred in some sugar. "I had some correspondence to catch up on," he snarked, turning to head back to his office, mug in hand. "No patients to avoid yet, but I'll be in my office practicing for when they show. Dr. Cameron-"

She started.

"-I need a word."

Cameron gaped at him for a second before following. She had hoped to avoid him for a while, but failing that, she had at least hoped for a little discretion. She noticed Chase and Foreman look at each other and shrug. They would probably stay in the room, liable to overhear any heated conversation that might occur.

House's office was more dimly lit than the conference room, with all the blinds pulled shut. Cameron stayed close to the door while House moved to his desk and sat down. He took his time, sipping his coffee before putting it down and leaning back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk.

Cameron was tense. "What do you want?" she asked.

House frowned. "You're still mad at me," he observed.

"Of course I'm still mad at you!" Cameron snapped, but she ducked her head as she remembered that Chase and Foreman were next door.

"Why?"

Cameron was slightly befuddled. "What do you mean, 'why?'"

"Why are you still mad at me?" House reiterated, as if Cameron hadn't understood the question, which she found rather offensive.

"I'm still mad at you," she said, "because you barged into my home to talk to me about something that's personal and upsetting!" Her voice was becoming high-pitched as her throat, still sore from the previous night, tensed. She felt her eyes sting.

"Of course it's upsetting," House said, taking his feet off of his desk so that he could lean forward. He sounded almost annoyed. "He was your husband, you should be upset."

Cameron was hurt and confused. "Why would you want to make someone talk about something that upsets them?" she asked House.

"You forget," House replied, "I'm not so much with the people." He gave her a sardonic grin. "That's more your department."

Cameron gave him an expression that was half pleading and half incredulous, and tears she'd tried to hold back slipped down her face, but she didn't really even care at this point.

"So, what, your excuse for doing this is that you're a jerk and therefore don't know any better?"

"No, my explanation for this is that I wanted to know what it meant to you."

"I-"

"Look, this isn't even why I asked you to come in here," House interjected.

Cameron stopped and pulled back, wrapping her arms around herself, and gave a little sniffle, waiting.

House spoke in a low voice. "You told me last night that going by your husband's name gave you fortitude, but that you think that I instead find you to be naive. You said you feel that this view is reinforced every time I call you Cameron, and you want to convince me that I'm wrong. You've also said you have feelings for me, and that you hope to prove that I'm not a project to fix. But what I'm not certain of is, if we were to proceed from here, how would we do so?"

Cameron frowned in confusion. "…what?" she asked.

"I want to give you another opportunity," House said, "to prove me wrong. Show me what you really want from me, and demonstrate how you have this fortitude you claim you got from your husband."

"How?" Cameron asked.

"That's what I said I wasn't certain of," House told her. "But I was thinking of something along the lines of a date."

Cameron was scared. She inhaled carefully. "All right," she said. "I can do that."


	3. Alternate Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the alternate version I wrote of the second chapter. It picks up at the end of the first chapter. The original version of the second chapter has nothing to do with the alternate version--they are completely different and separate.

The next morning found Cameron awake even before her alarm rang. As she stared up at the ceiling, waiting for her clock to tell her to get out of bed, she felt an acid dread seep into her. She had no idea what the implications of the previous night's events were, but she didn't think she could face House without him being able to tell that she'd cried herself to sleep after he'd left. When the radio came on at half past, she got up automatically and headed to the shower.

Foreman and Chase didn't seem to notice Cameron's quiet tension as they hung around the Diagnostics office that morning. Instead, they sipped coffee and chatted genially while waiting for House to show up. At about ten past nine, he came limping in, brandishing a file, followed quickly by Wilson, who passed out extra copies of the chart and took a place leaning against the wall.

"Asian male, age 32, presents with double vision, rash and nominal aphasia," House recited. "No reported trauma. Blood work's done nothing but confirm anemia, for which he's been receiving shots since the age of 10. Differential diagnosis, anyone?"

Cameron was slightly stunned. She hadn't expected things to be so… normal. Not noticing what Foreman was saying about neurological disorders, Cameron stared at House, waiting for some sign that the previous night had actually happened—that it wasn't just some hellish nightmare. After a minute, House looked back at her, and for a second she felt a spark of twisted hope in her chest, but it was choked out when all he said was "Dr. Cameron, your thoughts?"

She stammered for a second, collecting herself. Had there been anything to that look? "…Well," she got out,"I definitely think we should do an MRI, and also some allergy tests. The rash could be unrelated."

"Good," he replied. Two minutes later, the meeting was over and Cameron, still rather agitated, had been sent off to run tests with Chase and Foreman without receiving any other clue as to what might be going on with House.

The surreal anxiety of the morning continued for the rest of the day; by five o'clock their patient had begun vomiting blood, House had watched two soaps to get himself thinking, and Cameron was exhausted. She was sitting in the Diagnostics office with her elbows on the table, head down and the palms of her hands pressed against her eyes, trying to go over the file one more time, when House came in from his office and spoke suddenly.

"Go home," he said. "You're exhausted."

Cameron jumped in her seat and turned to face him. "I was just going through the test results again," she said in a rush. "I think there might-"

"I said go home," House repeated, interrupting her. "You can't work like this. Take tomorrow off and come back when you can keep your focus."

Cameron was shocked. "I told you yesterday that I don't need time off," she protested.

House was giving her an almost angry look. "Your work today tells me otherwise."

"My work today has been fine," Cameron replied heatedly. "None of us know what's wrong with Emmanuel."

"That's not what you told his wife."

"I told her we were exploring different possibilities!" Cameron insisted, standing up. "I'm sorry I'm not as bitterly direct as you, but I thought I'd let her have a shred of hope."

"You needed to let yourself have hope," House retorted, moving towards her. "You needed to not feel as helpless as you did when your husband was dying, because even now that you're in a position to save this man's life, you can't."

"Don't you dare bring my husband into this!" Cameron shouted.

House glared at her and stepped closer, coming into her personal space. "I knew you were a good doctor because I could tell that you had something that made you work harder than you needed to," he said in a low voice. "It also happened to make you feel harder than you needed to. So you got hung up on patients, on me, but you did good work. Today, that changed."

In a sudden burst of terror, Cameron abruptly turned away from House and positioned herself on the opposite side of the table from him. Gripping the back of one of the chairs with both hands, she took a shaky breath to calm herself before looking back up at House.

"I didn't mean for it to change," she said adamantly.

"Well, too bad!" House yelled. "You give me a speech about how your husband's illness gave you strength and resolve, and the next day you can't even tell a patient the truth about his condition!"

"I was waiting for you to acknowledge me!"

"And I was waiting for you to prove yourself!"

Cameron was stunned. Her breath stopped as the echo of their words dissipated around them.

"I'm sorry," she exhaled after a moment.

"Good," House replied. He noticed that Cameron's eyes were bright.

Cameron looked back up at House. "Give Emmanuel steroids," she told him. "They should clear things up enough for us to see what's really going on. When that happens, start him on anti-virals."

"I'll page Chase," House said as he turned back towards his office. He'd gone two paces when Cameron stopped him.

"House," she called. He turned around. "You were right—I didn't foresee someone like you coming into my life when my husband died. But I'm not going to let that lessen what happened then, or let it screw up what's happening now."


End file.
